Fic: For the Husband Who Has Everything (Rated M)
Summary: Lois Lane Kent wants to give Clark something special for their anniversary.
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Author’s Note: Spoilers for the S:TAS episode “World’s Finest”.
Setting: the future, eight years after the JLU episode “Destroyer.”
Dedicated to Phoenix, who will always be my “super” man. Happy anniversary, sweetie!
* * *
Lois Lane Kent stared at her computer screen, willing herself to get over her writer’s block.
“Sources alleged that -“
No.
“Unnamed sources close to the President stated -”
Too wordy.
“A weaselly bureaucrat who wouldn’t have the guts to give his name, and tried to hit on me besides, insinuated that -“
True, but -
Her cell phone vibrated and she picked it up, eager for the distraction. It was the automated reminder she’d entered, “Anniversary - next week.”
Damn.
Contrary to the stereotype, Clark had never forgotten their wedding anniversary, and she’d only remembered about half the time. Now they were about to celebrate their seventh anniversary. That seemed like it should be significant: surviving the seven-year itch, and all that. She wasn’t sentimental, but she knew that he was. And since she’d forgotten their last three anniversaries - well, even the most understanding of spouses would probably appreciate a little…appreciation.
She Googled “seventh anniversary gift,” then frowned as she read “Traditional gifts: wool or copper. Modern gifts: Desk sets.”
Yeah. Right. “Happy anniversary, Smallville - here’s a sweater that you don’t need, since you don’t get cold anyway.” Or even better, “Here you go, honey, here’s a desk set for you to keep all of the items you don’t even use anymore, now that the Planet’s gone paperless.”
“Lane!” She looked up to see Perry White standing behind her, holding a book. “Got an assignment for you.”
He slapped the paperback on her desk. “Read it. Then write about it. Figure out why it’s so popular.”
“Come on, Perry, I haven’t written a book report since junior high.” But she picked up the book and glanced at the title: Fifty Shades of Grey.
Oh yeah, that’s the one they’re calling “mommy porn.”
“I’m on it.” Could be worse - at least it’s not another story about Intergang money laundering.
* * *
Lois closed the book, shaking her head slightly at the popularity of a heroine who was not only unbelievably naïve, but had less self-esteem than a dead turtle. I can’t believe this is a best seller. How many women could actually put up with someone like Christian Grey in real life?
Maybe wish fulfillment? That’s what it is. Guess a lot of women would be willing to cede control over their lives to a sexy, rich guy who was good in bed. You’d think the issues would be a deal-breaker, but who knows?
She thought about her brief fling with Bruce Wayne, so long ago. Now there was a guy with issues - way more issues than I could ever deal with - but I did actually consider moving to Gotham.
Following her breakup with Bruce, Lois had realized that the kind of man she’d really wanted combined the sheer sexiness of Superman with the, well, steadiness of Clark Kent. Much later, she’d learned that both came in the same wonderful package - and both were head-over-heels in love with her.
She couldn’t help smiling at the memory; she’d been both chagrined that she hadn’t figured it out, and simultaneously aroused - so much so, that Superman had taken a step back and fallen onto the couch - so much like the adorably clumsy Clark she'd also fallen in love with.
I practically had to drag him into bed that first time. I think he was so worried about pressuring me, he wouldn’t allow himself to pick up on my signals.
It was true that their first time had been a little awkward; it was pretty clear that Clark was relatively inexperienced sexually.
Nothing like that Anastasia Steele, though. Come on, no college student could be that clued out.
Lois sighed, thinking about the article she had yet to write about Fifty Shades and how she’d have to balance her dislike of the book with the recognition of its significance, without having a bunch of infuriated housewives chasing her down Fifth Street.
Still, she’d had to admit that reading it had gotten her motor running, so to speak. She wished Clark was home instead of off on a mission with the League. She longed to feel his arms around her, longed to show him just how much she’d been missing him.
And that gave her an idea. She powered up her own personal laptop - no way am I writing this on the Planet’s - and started to type.
She briefly set the stage: him entering their darkened apartment, post-mission; her in bed, wearing a -
French maid outfit? Too clichéd.
Teddy? Too Victoria’s Secret
There was that violet lace negligee he’d given her for Valentine’s Day, which brought out her eyes…Not like he’d spent much time looking into them that night, but… She described her pose, reclining on their bed, sultry and inviting.
She wrote about how her smile broadened when he entered the room.
How she licked her lips as she watched him peel off his uniform.
How her pulse raced as he enfolded her in his arms and slid one hand down to caress her bottom.
How he moaned as she knelt before him and took him into her mouth.
* * *
A part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing, and another part was smirking as she tried to find the right words to describe what was happening without sounding too porny, purple, or euphemistic.
Still other parts - two, to be exact, were hardening in response as she wrote about how Clark was pleasuring her breasts.
Later, she felt a certain tension between her legs as she wrote about that thing Clark always did with his tongue, coupled with the way he knew how to touch her just right.
She considered including an item in her story that she’d always wanted to try with him - oh hell, it’s a fantasy, why not? - then brought up a website she’d heard about to order it. She shifted in her chair, grateful for the time to prepare this gift for him, but ready - oh, so ready - for him to return.
Finally, she finished. She printed her story out, gave it a quick proofread, and, finding no errors, slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand. She’d put it on his pillow on the night of their anniversary and - assuming it wasn't a slow day on Apokolips and Darkseid chose to invade again - well, this Earth girl will have an alien invasion of her own.
She couldn’t wait.
Fanfic 100 prompt: She
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